


Ocean vibing and other fun stuffs pirates do

by Lotter



Category: One Piece
Genre: Adopting and being adopted is the way to fuck canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, But not for my boys, Canon-Typical Violence, Crew as Family, Death, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Family Feels, For now let's pack trauma into the main character, Gen, Island is destroyed, M/M, Portgas D. Ace Lives, Reincarnation, SI-OC, Slavery, There are so many children to adopt, Trauma, Worldbuilding, but later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotter/pseuds/Lotter
Summary: Her eyes were naturally drawn to his hat, a worn-out straw hat. Her heart made a funny thing. "Nice hat, reminds me of a redhaired man." The child's head wiped around, eyes wide as saucers, "Old woman, you know Shanks?" A vein in her forehead throbbed at the naming, "Of course, I sailed with him."
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Original Female Character(s), Buggy (One Piece)/Original Female Character(s), Gol D. Roger & Original Character(s), Original female character & Roger's crew, Portgas D. Ace/Original Female Character(s), Silvers Rayleigh & Original Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: oc self insertSI





	1. I fucked up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome on Ocean vibing and other fun things pirates do.
> 
> Tis my newest creation and while it's supposed to be funny, some chapters aren't AT ALL.
> 
> LIKE THIS ONE. I'm really not kidding. This chapter contains violence, death, and creepiness. This chapter is all about that. There is no funny moment. Also, strong language. You've been warned.
> 
> Now, that this is done, I'm going to do the disclaimer.
> 
> One piece doesn't belong to me, unfortunately. The only things I own are my OC.
> 
> So, shall we?

**Chapter 1: I fucked up.**

* * *

**Day 186:**

**Dear Diary,**

**First thing first, sorry I forgot you at the last island but you know how it is, run away or get locked away.**

**Anyway, I fucked up.**

**Not 'I fucked up' like last time, it was a misunderstanding. That old lady was just a Karen - Right, you don't know what a Karen is. It's a feral woman who believes the world should revolve around their needs. An entitled and angry woman (and a white supremacist). It was how we called them back in my world. As I was saying, that lady was a Karen, calling the marines on a fourteen years old girl because she took the last cabbage -** _ **No**_ **,** _ **it wasn't yours, Karen, it touched my hand before it touched yours. I**_ **was** _**faster**_ **\- and it wasn't like she had none. She had like** _ **50!**_ ' **Sharing is caring' just proved how dry and arid your heart is-**

 **-Alright, let's stop thinking about it, I'm getting worked up and it's making me hungry… Wait, I mean** _**dizzy** _ **. I'm dizzy because I'm hungry and I'm hungry because... I fucked up.**

**How did I fuck up, you ask? It's simple, because I'm a fucking moron. My guts betrayed me.**

**That guy was really nice, we talked, and he paid for my meal at the bar - as I said, he** _ **was**_ **nice and not suspicious at all and I was short on money. And he offered me a drink. And I found myself on this boat, chained below a deck, in a boat sailing toward Saboady - better known as Slave city on my lovely island, Youko. How the fuck did they realize I was from here, I have no idea.**

**The result remained the same, I'm going to be sold as a slave.**

**...**

**Perhaps I should've died with them? It would have made everything easier and-**

"Kid, wake up. I got a plan." The rough voice cut short to her musings.

**Right… I cannot wallow in self-pity. I made a promise after all-**

_Survive, Anabelle, survive._ Her mother's voice whispered in her ears, a soft and sorrowful plea. She was smiling at her that day, the biggest smile she ever saw on her but her eyes were filled with unshed tears. It was… a _goodbye_.

_I will, Mom._

**I will survive.**

**And I swear I will properly write you down once I put my hands on papers - preferably, hands free of handcuffs.**

**See you later! (Hopefully.)**

She blinked the drowsiness away.

Dust motes floated and swirled in the light that squeezed between and cascaded out of the splintered boards of the _Bella Rosa_. Hidden from the shy kisses of the light, leaning against the corner of their shared cell was her companion of misfortune, Kamui the fisherman. 

He was beautiful in a strange way. His long and white hair shone in the light, changing color with each movement. Iridescent hair. Creamy white eyes and specks of white on his cheeks, as if they were freckles, on a blue and sturdy skin. He had a surprisingly slender and fit body, which created dissonance with his deep and rough voice. A voice expected from large and burly men, or gangsters. Sharp teeth that would tear her body apart, palmed hands and feet.

A weary expression, tired to the soul.

"What is it?" She asked. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry. Trying to moisten chapped lips proved to bring more pain than relief to her burning lips.

"I have a plan-" he moved a bit his shackles. She winced at the rattling sound, a noise that will haunt her nightmares forever, as he started scratching his wrists, "- to get us out of here."

Anabelle leant forward, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He couldn't- not after _so long_. They were on the ship for a week at least, slowly dying amongst the cries, the moans, and the filth.

He had a mean smile, a bit too sharp, a bit too determined, and eyes that lacked warmth.

Eyes of a dead man breathing.

She squared her jaws, gritting her teeth as fury brought life back in her eyes. "Stop joking around."

He has done that multiple times already, giving her false hope, told her it was to toughen her up, a doll like her would never make it out otherwise. That she was too _weak_.

It was times like that that reminded her why she disliked him so much. He lost all will to live and as such, was trying to take people down with him.

_.O._

" _Why is he so mean?"_ Anabelle, seven years old, cried in her father's arms. She knew already why but it didn't stop her heart from aching, the sadness that followed her everywhere weighed on her shoulders.

Her father sighed. It was a weary sigh, as if he couldn't believe he had to tell his little girl the truth already. He pulled her closer." _There are two kinds of people in this world, Ana - you will meet both kinds, so remember -: Those who suffered and refused to let anyone else suffer as they did and those who think, "I suffered; why shouldn't they?"."_

_.O._

_Don't fall into the last category, Ana_.

In her head, his voice was warm and dripping with affection. It warmed her cold heart.

"No, I'm not kidding this time." He pacified her, motioning to her with his cuffed hands. "Believe me."

Anabelle frowned at the sight of his bloody hands. He ripped his scabs again, scratching his wrists like that.

 _Desperate time calls for desperate trust, I guess_. She pursed her lips, slowly moving from the corner of her cell. Her handcuffs made a rattling noise. Acry echoed from somewhere inside the room.

"Let me out, I will do anything-" Someone sobbed, a cry for help, "-I will be anyone. Just let me out."

A chill went down her spine. _They_ awakened.

Kamui and she weren't the only people on board and sometimes, Anabelle thought it would have been easier without them. The stench of despair and madness clung to them.

Despair was quite the disease, spreading around and infecting everyone. It attacked the spirit, sinking its fangs into the mind and injecting the darkest liquid in existence to send it to its death in a maelstrom of maddening thoughts.

 _They_ were the first ones to fall prey to fear, to let it drag their souls toward a spiraling mess who feasted on others' hopes and festered.

Anabelle couldn't fault them for that, though. Or, at least, not like the beautiful fisherman did. She had felt the despair, the fear, and the helplessness the first few days after her capture. Until she had been metaphorically slapped in the face by her companion of misfortune. Then, she became numb to it. Or maybe, she bottled and compressed them so well they became the fuel she needed to keep going.

" _Row, row, row your boat, -"_ The voice was shrill and broken. Soft and sounded feminine and despite knowing the owner, - an unfortunate wave made her crashed against the bars, the only light in the room shone brightly in one corner of the room, revealing a man's face, made only of skin and bones, with beady, empty eyes, staring straight at her as he sang - Anabelle would still believe he was a little girl.

 _That song, that wretched nursery._ The auburn girl closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She would hear it in her nightmares, she was sure of it.

"Come closer, kid." Kamui grunted, shaking his hair out of his face. He sent her _the_ look, the one that told her she wouldn't like what he was going to say.

Something fell on her, foreboding and heavy, as if she was shouldering the burden of a century of mistakes. Her coated tongue tasted something sour in the back of her mouth. Her guts knotted. "I swear if you're kidding I will-"

She was at her rope's end, if he played her once more, she didn't know what she would do. Something drastic, most likely.

" _\- Gently down the stream."_

The thunder roared overhead.

His lips twitched a fraction with something like dark humor on his face. " I'm not. This time, I'm not. You heard it, right?"

"The thunder?" She asked dumbly. Of _fucking_ course, she heard the thunder, she wasn't deaf just yet.

He sighed through his nose, a long-suffering sigh through a long snout-like nose. Perhaps he was some kind of shark? A moon shark, it would explain his colo-

"No, its call."

Her stomach fell somewhere between her feet. It felt like being punched by a cold draught, all air left her lungs, leaving her breathless and shivering. She was frozen on spot.

_How…?_

She remained silent, but her dread must have been written all across her face.

"As I thought, you really are an interesting little girl." He chuckled softly, half-lidded eyes never leaving her face, "A storm is brewing."

The little taken aback move must have fully betrayed her, if he had any doubt to begin with, but she couldn't stop herself. The itchy feeling came back to her fingers, now that he reminded her of it. She clenched her hands to stop herself from reaching out to the filthy ground marred with piss, food, and water, and to the wall behind her - the closest to the sea - to feel the powerful thrumming of the water against the wood.

The buzzing in her chest grew stronger, spreading across her limbs and deep in her marrow the fury of its owner.

He smiled at her sadly, revealing pointy and dangerous teeth, "You felt their fury, right? It echoed deep in your bones too, right?"

"I'm human," Anabelle said, half-choking.

The wind began howling.

"No, you're a Youkan." He answered, as if it explained everything.

His voice adopted a strange tone, a bit breathless, a bit surprised. Something that made her skin crawl, like thousands of spiders were running under her skin.

She wasn't surprised that he still remembered them- well, perhaps a bit, as it's been ten years since the deal was broken - astonished, however, she was. There weren't any lost love amongst the creature of the sea floor and them. So hearing wonder instead of contempt broke the deck frol under her feet.

Something wasn't right.

Her neck felt hot and she moved her shoulders, feeling a bit oppressed and very uncomfortable with his stare. "Alright. What do you propose?"

A terrible way to change the flow of the conversation but it would have to do.

" _Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,-"_

He shifted against the corner of his cell, looking like the cat who got the cream. "We need to create a commotion, to bring one of them down and when he opens the cell, you run as fast as you can out of here."

"How? And you? What do you mean, _you_?"

His white, creamy eyes seemed to glow in the dark. It filled her with dread. It was the first time she saw his eyes so _alive_.

"It's simple-" his smile, always mean and sharp, turned softer.

" _\- Life is but a dream."_

"- kill me."

The two small words echoed in the eerily silent room. There was no sound, no noise, as if everyone was waiting with bated breath for her reaction.

Their eyes met. His words, repeating in her head like a broken record, sank in. Anabelle's eyes turned wide as saucers.

She choked on her breath.

_What?_

Her racing heart pounded into her ears, deafening her to the rest of the world for a tiny second. The all too familiar drop in her gut, as if her chest became empty but heavy at the same time, froze her-

A hand reached out to her and in the dim light of the boat's hold, she saw blood and torn-off nails. For one wild moment, she thought the hand would scoop her eye but the cell proved to be a powerful enough barrier against sudden attacks.

It clawed at the air, spasming erratically. "I can't breathe! I'm dyiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnng!"

\- she jumped, swallowing a scream of her own as her blood left her face and her heart, her body. " _Fuck._ "

Quick as a sparrow, Kamui's palmed hand caught his elbow and with a sickening twist, broke it. The man only twitched-

No further reaction. No noise. Just-

The lantern in the room churned with the boat, projecting a golden halo on the spot next to her. A bony face appeared in the split second, eyes wide open, red-rimmed, too big, and ready to pop out. Dilated pupils, shaking hard. A crazed glint. Blemished lips, too thin and too pale. A cut on his lips dribbled down his chin.

\- the desperate attempt at survival of a numb man.

For the second time, Anabelle threw herself back, hitting her head against the wall, a scream dying on her lips. Kamui pushed him back, almost throwing him across his cell.

A snarl, dangerous, and low. A warning. Amongst the beast they all became, her fisherman friend was the most dangerous. He was her protector, he drew the line between her and the madmen. And losing him-

"No. I refuse." She shook her head, ignoring the pain in her stiff muscles. He stared back knowingly, shifting into a comfortable position.

"No." She started again, voice shaking. He smiled at her, saying nothing but explaining everything through his gaze.

"NO." She raised her voice, hoping it would give her authority.

A fresh wave of emotion, raw with unbridled force, crashed into her, seizing her throat painfully until she choked and gasped.

Somewhere in the background, someone was still laughing-singing-crying, louder and louder, as if they were trying to drown the sound of the storm outside.

" **NO!** " Her cry, desperate and broken, rang loudly in the room. She screamed at him, but also at herself and at the dark voice inside her.

Her cry left her breathless. She was feeling too much at once, like stuffed pinata ready to be beaten, and all her emotions lit a fire inside her heart. The flames inside her licked the walls of her self-control, and slowly, one by one, the walls started to crumble. And with each wall crumbling, she lost a little bit more of her mind.

The way odd blues eyes narrowed into slits was nothing short of terrifying. There was something behind her eyes - one, blue as ice and the other, blue as the deep sea - churning and swirling dangerously.

Kamui's smile faded. His face settled, turning calm and collected. Cold.

"You won't do it?" He let out a dry laugh, mean and dangerous, that turned into a coughing fit. He wheezed, hitting his chest several times. "Then give up. Give _everything_ up."

Her heart missed a beat. The small string of self-control snapped.

"How dare you? How dare you! You have no right to tell me to give up as if everything is meaningless!"

Still, when the self-righteous fury enveloped her, there was nothing on this earth, nor in heaven or hell, that could calm her.

People died for her to survive. They made the greatest sacrifice for her. Their love saved her and _he_ was telling _her_ to give up as if it meant nothing? As if they meant nothing?

"To survive, you must be ready to do everything. This world is cruel, unpredictable… A eat or be eaten world."

Her rage, however, always presented in different ways, and with this creature, this _cretin_ , it was an emotional rage. One that burnt hot, ready to destroy everything on its path, like a flaming hurricane.

_Be selfish, kid._

Her anger ran hot, so hot it brought tears to her eyes.

"How dare you?" She choked on a sob, tears spilling on her cheeks, taking with them a week's worth of dirt. "How dare you trade your life as if it is meaningless… And you want to make _me_ do this?"

He wanted to burden her with his death, to haunt her forever. How selfish! How cruel! This bastard! His blood would be on _her_ hands. How could he even dare say such things? Death was not something to joke about, it was not the answer!

"Ah. You really are a bleeding heart, aren't you?"

She sent him her meanest glare, full of poisons and anger and maybe - if she listened to her throbbing heart - full of hurt. She mumbled something incoherently, sobbing harder in her hands.

They smelt of piss and vomit but she didn't care. Tears with a tint of gold ran down her face to her neck and the skin they touched felt refreshed. Her chapped lips weren't so red and didn't hurt as bad.

"Don't worry, it will be good for you. You need to toughen up."

She raised her puffy eyes toward Kamui's face. He had a content expression as if he didn't just talk about his death.

_Don't waste your tears on useless things._

No. They haunted her enough already, she didn't need to add someone else's voice.

"Stop talking.." She rasped. Her throat felt like it was filled with broken glass.

"It will be the perfect commotion. Those humans aren't humans anymore, just beasts in human clothing. The smell of blood will drive them wild."

"I said, _**stop talking!**_ Why are you speaking of death as if nothing matters?"

Her head throbbed but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest, the heavy sadness that squeezed her lungs.

The screams of the trapped and of the desperate rose with her own, welcoming her for she reached a new kind of hell. She was on the verge of falling down the abyss.

And amidst the voices, there was one that reached her bubble of self-pity.

 _What made my beloved so upset?_ It brushed against her brain, silvery and honeyed, cooling her maddening thoughts.

A sigh.

A part of her indignantly raged at that. How dare he sighs when he put her in this state-

"I'm tired."

Anabelle blinked and took shaky breaths to calm herself, "Of what?"

She dreaded his answer. _Why why whywhywh-_

"Do I need a reason?" He asked with childlike wonder, as if it was the first time someone asked him that.

"YES! You're going to-" She stumbled on her words, her agitation getting the better of her ability to speak, snot dribbling down her nose, "You're going to commit the _most selfish_ act in this world with no care about what it will do to the others around you! What about your family, your friends?"

"I'm sure they would understand."

Was it a difference in culture? Was it why she couldn't get through him? She raked her fingers through her hair, face twisting in a grimace. "No, they won't! Don't you understand how precious your life is? Death is _never_ the answer."

"Oh, I know how much my life is worth." He laughed again, dark and mean, drumming his pointy nails against the wood. "100 million berry, that's how much we go on the market this day."

"Stop it _please_." She begged quietly. Her head fell against her chest. She could feel her heart beating fast against her ribs.

"I'm already dead, kid, I've been for a long time now. I'm empty. Numb. I've seen everything there is to see. This world has nothing to offer anymore. I've made my choice." He threw his head backward and closed his eyes. He looked… calm. "You will get out that way, see by yourself and choose if this world is really worth living that long in it."

It broke her heart. How terrible his life must have been if talking about his death appeased his soul.

And yet, amidst her raging feelings, all the sadness and hurt couldn't completely cover the small voice whispering inside her head. _This is your lifeline, take it._

And that tiny voice proved something. She wasn't as kind as she believed - _hoped_ \- herself to be. She was deeply selfish and would favor her life over the others.

"Why- me?"

The idea started to take roots in her head, making sense in a disturbing way. Her stomach churned and knotted. The fact that she was entertaining the idea made her sick.

"I don't know, actually. You're special, I guess. You can hear it and- I don't know… You just remind me of the sea." He exhaled, long and slow, "I like you."

"Why me…?" She asked again, to no one this time.

Why couldn't he kill himself? What pushed him to ask her to kill him? Selfish bastard! Too proud to take his own life, he stooped so low he asked her to take his life. Why now? Why her?

"Self-pity won't save you," he scolded, lips turning thin and the vein on his forehead pulsing. "Get your head out of the abyss. You should be proud, no warrior of the sea would give their life up to anyone. So, survive kid."

_Survive Anabelle, survive._

For a second, the image of her mother, a proud woman with odd blue eyes and fiery hair, overlapped the face of Kamui. Just how many will die for her to survive?

 _Ana, my little lionfish, we're not dying because of you, but_ _ **for**_ _you. So that you could let our spirits rest in peace afterward._

_.O._

" _What's the use of the big bell at the top of the mountain?_ " Anabelle, ten years old, asked, munching on an apple.

Her mother, Izabelle Lépicier, hunched over her stool, smiled at her work. Next to her, the smelly intestine of a Sea king was soaking in the tub. The translucent water turned pink, then red and silver until it settled for a pale green with each ingredient she added.

" _Ah, that's right. You were too young to remember the last funeral._ " Izabelle extended her hand toward the table without looking. Anabelle inconspicuously moved the herbs under her hand. " _Ah_!" She threw a handful in the tub, pushing coal into the fire underneath the tub to warm her mixture up.

" _So?_ " Anabelle tilted her head, looking as innocent as a newborn.

" _It's the bell of Kahra, not a simple 'big bell'_." She softly laughed under her breath, turning shining and bright eyes toward the little girl, " _The souls of the Youkan are tied to the sea - forced to roam eternally amongst the fishes and the shipwrecks we've caused, not the funniest fate, right? Unless we ring the bell. Ringing the bell means summoning Kahra here and_ _ **she**_ _is the only one able to cut our ties to the sea. That's our only way to reach the stars."_

The soft smile on her mother's face turned wide and wild, she presented her hand, " _Now, why don't you give me back what you tried to steal?_ "

Anabelle gaped, eyes turning wide as saucers. " _But how? You weren't even looking!_ "

She wiggled her fingers and the little girl pouted, giving her back the herbs with a heart-breaking sigh.

She raised a brow at the ingredients in her hand, " _Were you planning on creating a poison?_ "

" _No…?_ "

" _You're not supposed to answer a question with another question._ " Anabelle raised a finger to defend herself but her mother continued, " _You should be more careful. If you kill someone, they will haunt_ _ **you**_ _forever until_ _ **you**_ _ring the bell and_ _ **you**_ _go through the ritual. Only then, they will find peace."_

_.O._

"If I kill you, you won't find-"

"I know, one of yours already told me." He smiled sadly, casting his eyes downward.

"Who-"

"It doesn't matter now." He cut her probing, slapping a hand that tried to catch his hair through the bars, "It may take time but I know you will let us rest in peace."

The words left a foreboding aftertaste in the air, something heavy and dark looming over her head. But-

She bit violently her lip, shaking her head while her fingers racked her hair. She let a loud scream out, muffled by her knees. By the time she stopped screaming, she was panting and her throat burned fiercely.

Both her hands fell from her hair and ever so slowly, she moved her head until she was peeking over her knees at Kamui.

"Okay, I will do it." She croaked out.

Tension gradually left his body until the only thing that remained was his expression of relief.

The sounds of footsteps and shouting were the last warning before the storm hit them fully.

The floor shifted under her, sending her toppling forward with sudden and violent waves. Thunder roared horribly and the wind howled and the buzzing in her chest intensified to reach a new peak.

"Thank you…" Kamui caught her poor excuse of a top, stopping her from crashing against the bars. Others in the room weren't as lucky.

"For what?" Anabelle closed her eyes, inwardly scolding herself for always asking questions she didn't want the answers.

"Thank you, for agreeing and for crying for me." He gently put her back on her knees, their handcuffs painfully digging into their wrists. "You made me feel something I never thought I would feel again."

"What is it?" She whispered in a broken voice. Her hands shook against her tights and she couldn't look him in the eyes.

The waves crashed loudly against the side of the ship, drowning the voices of the desperate and the broken.

"Pity." He smiled. How could he smile? How could he be so calm- "I pity you, who will live the longest life."

And then, he patted her head softly. With affection. "You're a brave girl. Chomei must be proud of you."

She violently bit her cheek, tasting blood. Something made a violent jump in her chest at the sudden use of that name.

It made her wonder if something grew in her chest and left no space for her lungs and her heart or if her heart grew so big it left no room for her lungs. She was panting, heart thumping incredibly loudly.

"How did you-"

"It doesn't matter," he ruffled her hair, again, with affection, "here, use my nails before you lose all your bravado."

He ripped two nails from his fingers with a simple wince. Anabelle cringed and winced in his stead, the bloody nails - hard and insanely sharp - falling into her hand turned her stomach the other way around.

She shook violently, adrenaline pumping through her like crazy and freezing her. The nails felt heavy, as if already knowing the fate they will bestow. She clenched her hand around them until her joints ached, rubbing her eyes dry with her arm.

"Okay," she nodded. Her nerves had curled up inside her, becoming one big ball of false bravado and terror. Dread and fear. Anger and sadness. She was feeling too much in too little time. _Okay, you got this._

"Mom. Where are you, Mom? I'm scared. Mom…"

She repressed another sob and helped Kamui laying down in the middle of the cell, far from hands' reach. "H-How?"

He pointed to his neck, "Slice my neck with my nails and-" His hands closed around her shaky ones, "- would you mind listening to a dead man last request?"

Her heart couldn't beat harder. She stared into his eyes, watched the tired smile on his face and the way his breathing slowed down. She nodded.

"Sing for me."

She closed her eyes and exhaled softly. Inwardly, she was screaming and crying, drowning in her emotions. Her head felt too small and her brains too big, feverish under her maelstroms of thoughts.

Outwardly, she smiled sadly, swallowing the knots in her throat.

There was comfort in being close to kins, someone who shared the same roots, no matter how old they might be. They found something familiar within each other, the same lifeforce that linked them to the sea, and that was what saved her. 

She wasn't alone.

And for that reason and _only_ for that, she granted his request. "Open your heart to my voice and be appeased."

Most people believed that it came naturally, that their voices were sultry and low from birth. Not even close. It was a skill, something not every Youkan mastered. It required concentration, dedication, and a very small layer of _that_.

Anabelle focused on her breathing, on the flow of air through her body until she perceived the two other things flowing through her body. One as slippery as the wind, Haki, and the other, cold and relentless, Dunamis.

She reached for her Dunamis, for the small pool hidden inside her belly, and directed it toward her throat, to coat her vocal cords with honey.

" _Sleep bonnie pirate laddie while the waves they roll._

_Sleep bonnie pirate laddie, ocean breezes blow._

_Feel the ship rocks to and fro, hear wind through rigging sigh._

_A gentle ocean sounds below a pirate lullaby."_

She sat next to him, singing a song of sorrow and heavy hearts, pouring her heart out to make him feel something. Her voice came out gentle and soft, honeyed, appealing to the ears and the mind.

She wasn't the most talented singer, she never predestined herself to art, but the effect was immediate. The room fell eerily silent before the soft clang of chains being dragged and the creaking of wood reached her ears. Like a moth to the brightness of the flame, her song pulled to her the weak-willed and the broken by an invisible string of symphony.

 _How weak,_ she thought, they were all seduced by her song. All - her eyes fell to her companion, his face was relaxed and his eyes closed, a smile curled the corners of his lips but he wasn't tempted - except the one who requested it.

" _Storms rise upon the seas as clouds darken up high._

 _See the sails begin to stretch as winds fall from the skies."_ Her voice quavered when his hands pressed her own against his neck.

Not yet, she wasn't-

The nails almost fumbled from her numb hands. She missed a note, her voice strained.

She wasn't ready-

With one hand, she gripped him tightly, her nails digging in his flesh, and she pressed his nails against his throat.

" _W- Waves roll and toss the ship- the ship roughly from side to side._

_Taste the salt upon your lips - Shit! - from the fury of the tide."_

And with a last curse, blood gushed out. On her hand, on her pants, and on the sticky floor.

Anabelle could see it, see it in the way his eyes widened, the way he stared at the ceiling, and in the way he unconsciously raised a hand to staunch the flow of blood.

She watched as he realized he was dying.

Kamui opened his mouth once, twice; a wet gurgling sound came out. There was a horrible sucking sound coming from his throat. And she suddenly feared she made a mistake, that he was still willing to live and that she put an end to his life for nothing.

But he smiled, content that he was finally dying, that his death wasn't a dishonorable one and that he would find peace.

Anabelle watched, eyes burning, as his fingers went limp in her hand and fell away. She felt his pulse against her fingers quickened before slowing, and slowing, and slowing-

Kamui's breath rattled in one final gasp.

-until there was nothing.

She continued to sing, voice hoarse and sorrow and grief lacing her words

" _Sleep bonnie pirate laddie while the waves they roll._

_Sleep bonnie pirate laddie, ocean breezes blow._

_Feel the ship rocks to and fro-"_

The static under her skin turned to a painful burn, pressure building and building in her throat. She heard it, the moment the sea reclaimed the life of her child. It sounded like a whale crying.

Moans of sorrow and roars of anger that didn't entirely belonged to her built pressure inside her, pressingitnto her bones. She painfully gasped, sweat beading on her temples until she couldn't anymore and-

She screamed, doubling over to retch, and with her rose the voices of the desperate and the broken, going mad over the smell of blood. They bounced over the walls, magnified and warped at the same time.

_I'm scared._

_Help me, help me._

_I'm here!_

_I'm DYIIIIInnnnnnnnnnnnggggg, SAVE ME!_

Their voices sang their maddening chorus and for the first time, hers joined them.

The door was kicked open with an almighty bang, the sound of it echoing across the room. Bits of wood and chipped paint scattered across the floor. Light flowed the room. Someone hissed and yowled at the sudden brightness.

The man in the doorway cocked a gun and fired at the wall, his face twisted with fury. "SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! We can't even hear the storm with your pathetic cries!"

Her voice got stuck in her throat. With the new light, the blood pooling around her and Kamui looked almost too red. It was surreal. Disgusting.

She felt ill at the notion that she had to leave him in this goddamn forsaken place but-

_Survive Anabelle, survive._

A slow exhale. An attempt at putting her thoughts back together.

All around her, people yelled and cried for help.

_Help me-_

_Let me out!_

_I didn't do anything wrong!_

The man walked further in the room, kicking the ones reaching for him through the bars.

Cry later, fight now.

Anabelle watched him coming closer and wrapped herself with anger, the buzzing in her chest echoing her emotions.

She thought of the week she had passed down here, of the cries of the people, of how they were treated, like dogs and things. She thought of Kamui, of his warm corpse against her. He didn't deserve that horrifying death in that horrifying environment. She thought of the World Government and her island.

She thought of all of that and let the anger boiled her blood.

It was now or never.

Her anger, this time, ran cold.

_.O._

_To be continued?_


	2. Chapter 2: Be unbroken or be brave again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is life and there is death. And in between, there are moments of peace and comfort and moments of pain and despair.

**_Chapter 2: Be unbroken or be brave again._ **

* * *

The sky split apart with a blinding flash, lightning grooving it in a serpentine dance, vanishing in a blink of an eye with a furious roar. Massive waves crashed against the wood, splashing drops of salt in her face.

She slipped, one wave sweeping off the deck of the forgotten belongings and tossing them around like a cork in a maelstrom. She rolled and crashed against the side, hissing under her breath when the water slid off her.

"She's here, gets her."

Chest heaving, Anabelle dug her nails into the wood and sprung back to her feet, stumbling on the deck like a drunken fool stuck in the middle of a storm.

The picture wasn't that far from reality.

Desperation and anxiety clung to her like loyal shadows, but unlike _them_ , she used it to fuel her drive.

Some moments defined a life, instants infinitely small that stuck to someone, and changed the course of their fate. A point of no return.

Hers was now.

If she couldn't reach the rescue boat, then everything was lost. Her life wouldn't be her own anymore. She would become a tool to satisfy the twisted pleasure of the wealthy.

Escape and live or get caught and die.

Her eyes were glued on her lifeline, and despite the gale wind that tossed them around, the waves and the objects scattered around - despite all of that, she pushed through with fierce determination.

A hand appeared in the corner of her eyes.

 _Shit, no_.

She tripped on her foot and was sent tumbling into a wall, avoiding the hand by sheer dumb luck and well-placed clumsiness. She jumped on her feet, barely sending a glance behind - she didn't need to stare at her helplessness - before bolting away.

Her escape was short-lived. She took two steps- she was close, so close to liberty - when pain tore through her shoulder. She saw white, a cry tearing through her throat, while her hand flew to her shoulder. Her legs, paralyzed by the pain, disappeared from under her.

"What the hell? You can't spoil the merchandise!" A voice roared over the wind, voice ragged and drawing closer.

"But she was escaping!" Someone answered. Anabelle could barely hear over the pulsing in her ears.

"You fool! You've lowered her price, that's what you did! She couldn't have escaped in the middle of a st-"

The mast lurched just as a hand reached for her, they all slid across the deck.

Out of breath with tears brimming, Anabelle patted the injury, nearly knocking herself out with the blinding, scorchingly white pain she felt.

Under her hand, her shoulder throbbed. By feel, her shoulder ought to have been twice its size, skin pulled and oozing with blood. Her arm jumped, flinched back, and she dug her nails into the side of her neck. Drops of water touched a place that wasn't supposed to feel sensation and her head spun.

The injury was round and the loud bang, unmistakable.

She had been shot.

Something jumped into her throat - her heart most likely - and beat like a heavy staccato.

They _fucking shot_ her.

The blood that rushed to her head left just as fast when dread and terror took hold of her heart - which was still beating somewhere near her throat. The shock, however, created a welcomed layer of numbness on her body and the pain receded to bearable.

With more difficulty than she expected, she rose on shaky legs, pushing her hair out of her face, her eyes falling on-

Anabelle blinked.

There was a man in front of her, a man with a smile and mean and cruel eyes. It sent shivers down her back. The rescue boat was conveniently placed _behind_ him.

"You down playing games, little girl?" His eyes, grey like steel - like the _shackles_ around her wrists -, glinted as lightning brightened the sky.

Her stomach fell somewhere on the deck. He was blocking her exist and-

She turned widely around, trying to-

She was held at gunpoint, unable to run away.

"You are surrounded, there is no escape." Someone said on her left. The man barely managed to stand on his feet as another wave hit the ship. "Come back quietly and your punishment will be lessened."

Anabelle used the ledge to keep her balance, hips painfully pressed against it. She had tried to ignore it but it grew stronger and bolder, tempting her to follow its voice. Soft and honeyed, whispering sweet nothings that Anabelle was too exhausted, scarred, and desperate to ignore.

The men had taken some steps closer but Anabelle, armed with nothing more than recklessness and the nails of a dead friend digging in her flesh, jumped on the ledge, sending them one last glare.

_Hope you burn in hell._

Her world tilted with the screams of surprise and shock.

The thunder roared, it sounded like laughter to her ears.

She fell into the relentlessness down below.

.O.

_Come, weary child, join the tide_

_Our roots will never harm your hide._

.O.

Death.

Now, that was a term she was familiar with. May it by stupid luck or some twisted fate, she died once. She didn't like remembering much about her previous life, it brought unnecessary pain. It wasn't like she could change anything, anyway. She simply needed to move on.

And she did.

But life loved to throw curve balls and it just so happened that she knew of this world before. That she read and loved the story of a boy with unexpected capacity and a lovingly worn straw hat. She knew that as she had been a _fan_.

She had cried when his ship made the ultimate sacrifice, she had cried when his brother died - this death had broken her; a boy who found a new will to live, died in the arms of his brother -, she had laughed at his stupidity.

The story stirred emotions within her and that was why she couldn't forget it easily. Instead of being carved into her mind, her memories, it was carved into her heart and her feelings.

And she, for some reason, somehow was reborn into this world.

_Yay! Born into a world of pirates and dangers, weirdos with power that could nuke her, and a government with a tendency for extreme mottoes._

**_F U C K._ **

What she was getting at was, she knew what death felt like, cold and numbing, and she unexpectedly wasn't dead.

There were times when one couldn't escape despite wishing it very, _very_ much. Being stuck in the middle of the sea, on a piece of wood that had _luckily_ \- there was nothing lucky on the sea, everything happened following its will - drifted by while being roasted under the scorching sun was one of those times.

The pain in her shoulder was dull but irritatingly present, never leaving the back of her mind. It wasn't painful, not in the sense of 'excruciating' or 'raw', but God knows she would rather take a bullet than remain in this state. A bullet that would keep her down, at least.

It was tiring.

And to make everything worse, she could still hear its voice whispering in her ears something about bringing her to help.

It's been hours! Where the hell was the help?

Still, ignoring her raging and screaming, the current pushed her further and further away.

.O.

She must have passed out at some point because one second it was late morning and the next, evening.

Anabelle moaned her pain, head throbbing and nose clogged from the burning fever wreaking havoc in her head. She was seeing the world with blurry eyes and a huge out of body experience.

The shackles broke in the middle, freeing her arms but not her wrists, and the dangling chains rubbed irritatingly against her skin. It sent shivers down her back.

The sun fell over the horizon, golden glimmers reflecting on the sea, as the sky reddened, turning clouds casting shadows on the island pink.

Anabelle, pushing hair out of her face with growing disbelief, pinched her cheek and blinked.

The island was still here. It wasn't a hallucination.

_Wha-_

It couldn't be possible. She couldn't be that lucky- She- she-

_No fucking way, you pushed me toward an island…_

Anabelle mentally and physically patted the sea before wondering if the sun hadn't burned her last few brain cells.

Probably.

A sudden wave of dizziness had her doubled over the edge. _Sickness,_ she thought as her stomach tightened and ached all the more, _comes in waves_.

She kept swallowing, and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what she could not stop the warm feeling rising through her chest. Then she could taste it at the back of her mouth. Anabelle buckled over. A warm, clouded, cream-colored liquid spilled from her mouth and splashed into the vastest expense of water.

 _More food for the fishes._ And the thought had the delicacy of disturbing her more than she thought it would.

She felt sicker after throwing up, rolls of sweat dripping from her forehead. The throbbing in her head increased.

The solace to her ailment laid in the water lapping at her feet and splashing drops of salt in her face. The water was so cold it stung, or maybe she was teetering on the fine line between spontaneous combustion and alive and had lost touch with her sensory receptors.

And maybe, _maybe_ she realized she wasn't right in her head when she went headfirst into the cooling - freezing - pool.

The water enveloped her as closely as her skin. Every new sore stung with the salt being washed in. She winced as it swirled without mercy, penetrating to the cells that should be protected by smooth skin but lay open and raw. After the initial surge of pain it ebbs, she started to enjoy her newfound weightlessness for a while.

The sea stole her heat, leaching away a few degrees to take her closer to hypothermia and Anabelle curled into a ball, eyes closed.

But the _relief_ …

The incessant pounding in her head stopped while the steam that invaded her head changed back into liquid.

" _Is the fool trying to die or are you hoping for your former legs to grow back?_ " The voice glided to her ears.

Her eyes flew back open, burning with salt and surprise.

A turtle swam around her without a care in the world, almost mindlessly, but the twinkle in its eyes told a different story.

 _Drown yourself,_ she mouthed back while some bubbles escaped her mouth.

She scolded. _Damn stupid ability, damn sea creatures, damn stupid world!_ They were all grating her nerves.

The turtle made a backflip as if dodging her angry remark.

" _It is not a place to die, silly fool,"_ The brown of its shelter shone in the light as the creature moved to her right. Her eyes naturally followed it.

White rays shone through the waves and currents, refracting on the rocks smoothed by the flow of the sea and showing the beauty of this other world. It almost felt like she saw the world through blue-green tinted glasses, as the color scheme seemed so different.

The sand was varied in color, browns akin to dunes at dawn, as pretty as the wood washed ashore upon windswept waves, whites like diamonds, the kind her mother was so fond of, and blacks like untouched sea stones.

Some ships littered the seafloor, bellies wide open and near a heap of rocks; their fates, easy to understand. Small and colorful flowers and corals littering the seafloor grew on the wood of the former kings of the sea, as if proving that there was beauty in death and destruction.

Precious bubbles of air escaped her in her shock. It was beautiful in a messy way, the one nature seemed to favor, and unexpected. She hadn't thought she would find beauty in her misfortune.

Her lung screamed for drags of the _precious_ oxygen and her legs went into motion. And as she reached the surface, the turtle added,

" _It's a place for new beginnings."_

Her head breached the surface and she breathed in her weight worth of oxygen.

It occurred to her that the only thing keeping her afloat would drift away while she tried to cool down a bit too late when she resurfaced to see the wood far away.

"Bloody idiot!" She screamed, smacking the surface of the sea but her voice left her halfway, painful and raw.

A wave smacked her back in the face. Anabelle spluttered.

The girl knew she couldn't stay here for too long, exhaustion already creeping in the back of her mind, growing increasingly more present as time passed.

 _Tis not a place to die, the turtle said. Let's not make it one._ And with that thought, Anabelle started to swim.

The current was strong, though, and tried to push her further and further away from the island, the blessing she had been granted lost to the whim of the giver. She shouldn't be surprised, it was how the sea worked. It gives as much as it takes.

Armed with that weird stubbornness to survive, she pushed the water again, swimming toward the ground. As she grew closer, the waves turned more unpredictable, pushing her under when she least expected it.

 _Stay afloat and swim with the waves_ , some distant part of her brain supplied ' _helpfully'_ . And Anabelle let herself be dragged away, rolling with the waves and the tide. By the time she felt the sandy ground under her feet - concrete, here, sturdy, _here_ -, she was so out of it that it took her a few seconds to notice.

She kicked her feet and dragged herself across the ground until she was laying on the shore. Anabelle panted and coughed against the sand, fingers digging the ground to drag her body even further up.

Her shoulder burnt like an inferno and the weird part of her brain provided her with the picture of a knife twisting in her wound, taking all of her nerve connections with it. She breathed the sand away.

What if she stayed here? Surely it would not harm if she took a break, closed her eyes for a few seconds. It sounded nice and the temperature was warm enough that she wouldn't end up frozen.

_Just a few sec-_

Her eyes closed and she was out.

.O.

The next time she opened her eyes, everything seemed fuzzy and distorted as if she was underwater.

Her right side was burning while her left was freezing. A warm, orange light projected grotesque shadows around and for a second - that was enough for her heart to yeet itself into the stratosphere - she believed she was surrounded.

But no, it was only one blurry man that hovered over her with what looked like abyssal eyes - black and intense. His main coloring was black: black hair, black eyes, black mustache - impressive mustache, she never saw one that well maintained - and a healthy face.

She turned her face away from the inferno next to her and puffed dusty particles with a heavy sigh.

She was laid on the ground, body aching, cheeks burning with the flush of fever. She would have cried for help, for the man to take her pain away - she would have _begged_ \- but there was no strength in her voice, just a whimper. Her breath quivered in short, quick gasps every time she inhaled, her lungs having no choice but to painfully and rigidly take in the chilled air. She couldn't seem to stop shaking either.

She tried to curl on herself, like an animal ready to die, but the man and his big, _biiiiig_ hands were having none of it.

_His hands are so big he can crush my skull- but maybe if I use the Pythagorean theorem, I can leave. What was it again? A squared plus B squared equals C squared-_

She knew her thoughts made no sense but that didn't stop them from invading her mind, plaguing her every second.

Waves of heat coursed through her blood, a cold sweat glistened in her gaunt features. Her eyes sunken and her skin sallow, everything ached, everything sagged.

She moaned her pain. She sounded like a strangled cat, even to her ears, and tried to claw her throat but her muscles had become cotton in the meantime and Anabelle couldn't even move a finger.

The man's face moved into an expression - an expression of… pain? It didn't belong on his face, Anabelle thought, he looked more like a happy person.

_Why the hell is he in pain? I'm the one dying here! There is shrapnel in my throat. Maybe I should take them off with a knif-_

One big hand took hold of her head - his fingers reached both ears! - and brought her in a half-sitting, half-laid position before showing liquid down her throat. She spluttered a bit, spitting on the man's face before her throat managed to swallow.

Fruity liquid… _Nice_.

It cooled the fire in her throat. She blinked a few times, and each time her eyelids grew heavier.

.O.

Someone was talking, saying things she couldn't quite understand, her brain too boiled and mushy into the cage named skull to understand.

It had a sweet rumble to it, deep but pleasant. It echoed and filled her bones with a pleasant buzz that soothed the parts of her that still hurt so very much. A bit of her body. A bit of her soul. A bit of her heart.

The voice paused momentarily, and a roughly calloused hand pressed gently against her forehead, soothing. Anabelle had no business being so comforted by it. It was a strange comfort, she thought, one she had longed to feel for some time now.

"D-dad?" She croaked, a bit hopeful but mostly out of that sense every kid had at some point. The one that believed a parent could take the pain away.

"Sleep, girlie. I will watch over you."

There was something more powerful behind his tone, an edge that could bend metals and part seas. Anabelle felt oddly comforted by it.

And so, feeling safe, she slept.

.O.

The next time she woke up, the hand on her forehead had weaved its fingers into her hair, while another one had found its way against her throat, two fingers pressed below her jaw.

It should have alarmed her. A hand so close to her throat could have easily taken her vocal cords, or worse asphyxiated her.

She felt so small, head pressed against a leg while soft snores were coming from above. And yet, against all odds, Anabelle felt safe.

So, she slept.

.O.

Her dreams were getting wilder and progressively less amusing, as she weaved between states of consciousness and unconsciousness. She was sitting with her friends - or what she knew to be her friends - eating dinner while a corpse was rocking by a noose from the lamp.

At that point, she preferred the dream where she kissed Kamui - while not looking like Kamui - over watching an ever-changing corpse - sometimes, late family members and friends - dangling over her food.

Though, she vastly favored being unconscious. She wouldn't feel the searing pain in her shoulder or the sweat dampening her whole body or smell the horrible breath of the man taking care of her.

The dreams became a bit too much by the time she managed to stay awake longer and by doing so, learned more about the kind soul that tended to her.

.O.

She sat at the edge of the shed - made of wood and big leaves -, poking at her wound - it wasn't as painful as it used to be -, she heard the first sign of his return.

From behind the bushes came the rustling sound of crushing leaves and the sound of heavy limbs being dragged across the forest floor. Whatever it was, it was massive. Either it dragged its feet or a tail through the undergrowth. Every once in a while would come a cracking noise like bone on wood, or at least that is what Anabelle imagined it to be - a thick skull crashing into a trunk.

The spike in her system, in her blood and her chest, was from fear. Whatever it was, it was coming and the girl was a sitting duck waiting to be eaten. But what could she do? It already took her all of her energy to rise and sit at the edge of the camp, her body, a ball of cotton, and tiredness.

But-

But there was something she could do to hide, maybe - she sent a look toward heaven and found her gaze blocked by the roof made of leaves - hiding under leaves? Sounds very pathetic but Anabelle was desperate.

Perhaps, if she had been a bit smarter, she would have taken the time to look around and see the handmade knife a few meters away. Unfortunately, she wasn't, and so, her quest for grabbing a big leaf began.

The sounds were getting closer. Her heart leaped into action, breakdancing in her chest, and her brain released that sweet adrenaline that froze her. It was a struggle to get past the adrenaline but she managed, with gritted teeth and determination.

And so, with the strength of the desperate filled with adrenaline, she rose on her toes, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

 _Come on, don't be a dick_.

Her fingers grazed the closest, but like a dream, it remained out of reach. Still, Anabelle persevered, heart strong against her ribs and fear wrapped around her throat.

She was close, so close, but so were the sounds. She stretched more, shaking harder and harder until-

A man appeared from the bushes, his eyes immediately falling on her. Anabelle froze. They stared at each other. Time was a shitty concept. It passed too fast during a good time, and too slow for the awkward ones. And at this very moment, it felt like _years_.

The big man - and when she said big, she meant 3 meters tall and just as wide, chiseled like an actual wardrobe but with abs - opened his mouth, a slow grin curling his mouth.

Her legs chose that moment to let go. She hit the dirt, sending a cloud of sand and dry mud upward. And to add insult to injury, a leaf fluttered above her for a second before covering her.

"Girlie?" He tentatively asked, shuffling closer. He slowly pelted the leaf off, crouching near her face, "you okay?"

The grumble she made sounded more like a sad pleading to kill her than an actual answer.

"You shouldn't move too much already-" he continued as if she hadn't made the saddest noise he ever heard and gripped her tattered shirt with one hand. She was dangling like an unruly kitten. "-but I'm glad to see you up and moving. Thought you wouldn't make it for a whole day."

"A day?" Anabelle parroted. What did he mean, a day? She couldn't have been out for too long.

"Yeah," he put her back on her makeshift bed, which really, was only a coat, "You've been out for two days now. First day was quite hard, you were feverish-" the back of his hand touched her forehead, he made an approving sound, "-and even I could see it was dangerous."

Her jaw touched the ground. Two days? It was the longest she has ever been out.

Anabelle had never been the fainting type, dealing with pain even when she would have preferred being knocked out. So she was never out for too long, a day at most when her condition was critical. How… unexpected.

"You found me two days ago?"

He nodded patiently, taking a coconut and cutting it open in a move that shouldn't have been so fast before he presented it to her. "Drink. There isn't a lot of clear water, the river is salty, so the tons of coconuts should have-"

He stopped, listening to something before glaring at a seagull that hopped near the camp, on the top of a mountain of coconuts - how she didn't see that one before, she had no idea. Anabelle heard nothing, except the seagull's chant.

"The coconuts will have to be enough."

Anabelle agreed, finding the idea of moistening her mouth to be particularly good. She was parched.

 _Two days, uh_ …

A lot of things could have happened in two days. She could have died, which she didn't, she could have been killed - the very important distinction between the two former notions was that one implied the action of someone, may it out of mercy or some others twisted emotions, while the other didn't. Yet, nothing scarred her more than the idea that-

"Did you see a boat with white and red sails roaming around?"

-that _they_ 've been actively searching for her.

She was, after all, quite a rare specimen, a fine Youkan, island raised, with a sufficient grasp on her Dunamis. She would make quite the slave for a noble or worst, a _celestial dragon_.

"Haven't seen a damn ship during my stay here. Yours?" He ported the sullen look as well as a golden retriever, it wasn't an expression that belonged on his face. The small wrinkles on his face - around his mouth and in the corners of his eyes - confirmed her initial hunch, he smiled more than he frowned.

She bit her lip, debating on the pros and cons of telling him.

He smiled gently at her, patiently and inwardly, she wondered if he already knew. _Stupid,_ she scowled herself, _how could he know something like that?_

Maybe she was getting too paranoïd. Her guts were in favor of telling him.

 _But,_ a voice whispered in her mind, _it's the paranoids who survive._ That voice sounded like Kamui, always nagging her in some ways.

Kamui's voice and her gut feeling, two forces fighting inside her. But only one betrayed her.

 _A compromise, then_. Anabelle was good for that, compromising had always been her father's talent and she had inherited it.

" No, not really. One that I'm trying to stay away from."

The man raised a bushy brow, tilting his head.

Why the hell was he reminding her so much of a golden retriever? Was he born into the dog clan or something? Was he a dog in his previous life?

"Oh? And why so?" His eyes left her for a second, glancing out at the beach and the forest, and missed Anabelle grimacing.

"It's not something a stranger needs to know." She cut short to his investigation, picking at the dirt under her fingernails - four nails were broken, dammit!

She expected an angry answer, one demanding her to answer as he had nursed her back to health, to which she would have said that he helped her on his own accord, she never asked for it and while she wasn't ungrateful, it didn't mean she owned him.

She hadn't expected a laugh. A booming, full of life and mirth laugh. One that echoed deep into the marrow and sent pleasant buzzes through her nervous system.

Anabelle gaped, looking like a fish out of its element.

"Fair enough, I'm Roger," he offered her a bright smile and added with the most joyous tone in the world, "a pirate. And you?"

Swallowing, she looked down at her hands, at the lack of shackles around her wrists, before meeting his gaze once more. "I'm Anabelle, a traveler."

"Nice to meet you," his eyes turned a bit mischievous, gleaming unnaturally, "now, we're not strangers anymore, are we?"

Anabelle stopped herself from remarking that it sounded awfully like a kid snatcher line and kept quiet. Her stomach, however, did not.

A furious, thunder-like rumble filled in the silence.

The girl froze, mouth agape and face white.

...

 _I think_ , Anabelle thought, her soul leaving the realm of humans to reach a state of awkwardness never seen before, _I should have died. Is it why the sea wanted me to touch the ground? Wanted to see if someone could die of mortification-_

Roger threw his head back, shoulders shaking and entire body trembling, and let out a raucous laugh.

"What a powerful growl! Your little bear sure is hungry." Then he jumped on his feet, "but fear not, I have found food!"

Roger, with one hand, took hold of a cord and tugged. The biggest mammoth - Roger was _tiny_ next to it - slid into view, tusks four times bigger than her, fur brown and sumptuously pulpy. "Meat is on today's meal!"

Her mind was doing cartwheels.

This time, she _definitely_ lost it.

.O.

"Eat more. You will feel better."

Anabelle inhaled the mammoth skewers with less bite than recommended, tears running down her face.

"It's the best food ever!" She said, already pushing more food into her already full mouth.

None of it came out as said. It was more something like "tis te becht fuch eva" but Roger must have been well versed in the full mouth language as he blinked, eyeing her in a new light.

"What kind of life have you been living up until then?" The question was half-whispered, more to himself than to be heard.

She prepared herself to answer something witty like "my life" or "the life of a traveler", but in the time it took her to rub her eyes dry, half of the skewers had disappeared.

Anabelle gaped, meat falling out of her open mouth. What the hell was this? Magic?

A part of her was appalled by her behavior but manners held no candle to a famished girl, she would eat them if she could.

A skewer was pushed in her face. "Eat more. You need food to heal."

In a completely unconscious movement, one that suggested more a reflex than a deliberate action, she moved her right arm. Bad idea. The pain that shot through her was staggering, traveling through her nerves to her spine than to her whole body, Anabelle bit down a cry of pain.

She curled on herself, Roger's hand stopping her own from flying to the forgotten wound. The pain was dull as long as she didn't move her arm. It wasn't anymore.

"You shouldn't touch your shoulder. I did my best to take the bullet out-"

"-the bullet was still in there?" Anabelle cried out, feeling hot and sweaty with pain.

"Yeah," Roger nodded, one big hand pushing her hair out of her face, "lodged into the bone. I might have butchered your shoulder a bit."

Her voice failed her as she blinked multiple times. _Butchered…?_

"How bad?" She asked, voice strained with fear. The wince on his face didn't lessen her worries.

"It's going to scare, badly." His eyes were solemn, looking at her over the bonfire he built, "I had to cauterize it, you were bleeding too much."

Anabelle closed her eyes. "Are you a doctor?"

"Not really, girlie. I'm a captain."

 _One does not preclude the other_ , she thought, the picture of dark, ebony etches of ink across richly tan skin, gray eyes dark enough to be mistaken for black, muscles rippling with a sheen flashed into her head.

That picture most likely came from her ovaries.

What was his name, anyway? The Surgeon of Death or something.

Still, cautery with no medical skill was a risky move and would explain why she had been out for two days. And the tickling in her fingertips. She wasn't going to complain - not outwardly, at least -, he cared for her after and he rubbed eucalyptus and thyme on her wound if her nose was to be believed, but it was an _awfully_ risky move.

She tiredly cupped her cheek, rubbing circles on her temple. "If you're the captain then your crew must be searching for you."

Focusing on the what-if and other possible outcomes would not help. What happened happened. Period. Her path was forward so, the future was her main priority.

"Doubt it." Roger sniffed, "they're waiting for me at the next island."

Her thought process was getting slower - maybe it was because she was tired - but it took seconds to correctly interpret his words.

"They're not searching… for you?" Anabelle clapped her hands together, pressing her fingertips to her lips. "Are you a good captain?"

He rolled his eyes at her taunt and explained with a fond smile, "They're trusting me to come back on my own."

Watching him over her fingers that went up to press the bridge of her nose revealed a Roger way too relaxed as if they - _he_ \- haven't been abandoned on an island too small to have inhabitants.

_Uh. He really trusts his crew._

But was it the same for them?

Anabelle didn't know, and with a flare of _something_ in her chest, she found herself oddly protective of the pirate.

It kind of pissed her off.

But, she reasoned as he helped her laying down when her eyelids kept dropping, it was probably because of some bond they've formed when she was at her weakest, a bit similar to the bond between a parent and a child.

 _It's going to fade soon,_ she told herself.

She fell asleep soon after, a shirt smelling of sweat and something muskier covering her.

She felt safe.

.O.

The morning after - she had slept the afternoon and the night away, as if she was tired - saw her in a mood for a walk on the beach.

 _The island isn't big_ , Roger had told her, _you could circle it in a day._

Admittedly, Anabelle wasn't going to verify, she just wanted some space to deal with… everything.

The sand was the most gentle hue of gold, almost earthen and muted, the humble star of the scene. Deep green seaweeds and soft white seashells decorated the path. Sometimes, she would stumble upon those forbidden snacks, bright and colorful shards of glass that the sea polished enough to shine and attract the eyes.

When she was a young child, Anabelle ate one of those stones and almost died. One of the only benefits she got out of that predicament was her memories. She reckoned that her near-death experience triggered her real death experience.

Waves ahead roared and rolled down, crashing onto the shore with a soft hiss; peeling away at the soft sand beneath her feet. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent was familiar and calmed the bubbling of emotions rumbling inside.

Scrunching her toes, she felt the softness of the sand, still damp from the retreating tide. She buried her feet, chasing the warmth away for a colder ground, as a shiver cascaded down her spine and her eyes burst open. She exhaled softly. The sand blurred, the shore fading into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light, as her eyes brimmed with tears.

It sneaked on her and took her under its wing in an instant. Memories played like songs in her head, sometimes bugging and replaying instants - most of the time, the ones she wanted to forget. All gone, _everything_.

She was alone, now, like a boat stuck in between two storms, ready to keel over.

The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by her long intakes of the salty summer air. Tears began to spill from her helpless eyes onto the newly damped sand.

Kamui.

She didn't know him much but he saved her, from the slavers and herself. He stopped her as she was ready to follow the beggars of the ship. And, she knew he would hate it, but- weeping for him, mourning him, a child of the sea, felt right.

And knowing that life would still go on without impacting the lives of too many broke her. All pretense of quiet coping was lost and she sank to her knees not caring about the water that quickly soaked her to the skin.

And so, she cried.

She cried for him but mostly for her.

She cried and she let it flow, getting it out of her system, as it was her tears that kept her soul alive in this furnace of pain.

They may not be enough to extinguish what has happened and the pain it brought, but they carried her forward until a time came when it became only a distant memory. So perhaps it may be an oddity to thank her tears, but that was what saved her from becoming a monster, a person indifferent to suffering and sorrow.

She cried and wept long and hard until the tears dried up and left a gaping hole instead of a heart.

And like everyone else, she had to move on, acting as if she wasn't dragging behind her every step her traumas, the shadows of her past.

With a shaky sigh from her soul, tired already but not willing to give up, Anabelle walked away, starting her trek back to the camp.

It was on her way back that she spied it, waves buffeting it near the shore. A rescue boat.

Her heart missed a beat and stumbled on her way to it but before the tide could take back what it brought, Anabelle caught it.

"I can't believe it…" She mumbled, blinking hard because, really, how lucky must one be to have a boat drifting by the island in a mostly good condition.

Fingers digging into the wood, she pushed it on the sand with all her might, huffing and puffing because of the strain she was putting her body through.

Then, only after she was sure the boat was out of reach of the water, Anabelle took a step back. Something was warm inside her, curling around her stomach with sheer excitement.

Her finger itched to do _something_. She took a conch, wrapped around a few strands of hair, and threw it into the water.

"THANK YOU!" She screamed at the sea, hoping feverishly her tribute would be enough of a gift.

 _We're children of the sea, Ana, and like any parent, it loves gifts made by its children._ Her mother's words came back to her and the small draught of wind stroking her cheeks reminded her of the sweet kisses of Izabelle.

A soft rumble only she could hear answered her back, the buzzing of the sea penetrating to the bones. She pleasantly shivered, a wide smile curving her lips, and she threw her head back, letting out the emotion bubbling into her. She burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

She was alone now, but she wasn't lonely yet.

_.O._

Pushing her imaginary sleeves up, Anabelle started to work. First, take the water out of the boat and evaluate the damages. Hopefully, she was lucky again and the boat was in perfect condition. But she doubted-

Her hand went to check under the seat, cupping water to dry the wood and-

' _No touching._ ' Something _bit_ her.

The scream that tore through her throat was more out of fear than pain. A high-pitched, screeching kind of scream that was as embarrassing as it sounded.

A flock of birds flew away in the distance while her knee-jerking reaction threw the thing far away from her, further up on the beach where it landed with a growl of pain.

"Ow," Neat teeth marks bled from her hand. She shook it, checking if feelings were back in her hand. "What the _actual_ _fucking_ hell?"

Licking her palm - every rational cell in her screamed to not do it but that deeply primal part of her that believed that no blood meant no pain overpowered them -, she slowly walked toward the _thing._

Small enough to make her embarrassed of her scream - _such a tiny thing didn't deserve that from her_ -, the slithering body of the animal writhed and curled like an eel in pain. Green iridescent scales that reminded her a bit too much of someone else and a serpent-like head with a horn. Worst-

' _You dirty human, how dare you touch the body of the mighty me_!'

She squatted down, hand cupping her cheek and one elbow on her knee.

-it had a potty mouth.

Half-lidded eyes stared at the annoying thing in front of her, listening to his curses and promises of death until she caught it by the neck - but where started the neck and where the body? Wasn't a snake just a big neck anyway?

"You talk big for someone in your position." Her voice lacked emotions but her ticking brows betrayed her annoyance.

Its body curled around her wrist, squeezing. Anabelle raised a brow at the abyssal amount of strength.

' _What position?_ ' The snake asked, black tiny beads watching her.

A feral grin appeared on her face and revealed two sharp canines. "Of getting _eaten_."

The snake became clammy in her hand, as if sweating bullets, before it freaked out, thrashing around with screams of ' _Let me go_ ', ' _you monster_ ' and other tearful reactions when your life is threatened.

Anabelle sighed, feeling drained out, "You're lucky I'm not hungry."

The snake paused before asking in a small hopeful voice, ' _Does that mean you will release me?_ '

"I could always keep you with me until I'm hungry."

The reaction was as expected, violent, and filled with curses. She rolled her eyes, wondering if she shouldn't just twist its neck- _one less annoying thing in this world-_ but-

"I'm joking, it's a joke."

\- she didn't feel like doing it. Killing something now felt too much, not after- She swallowed, banishing the sudden pictures of her mind.

' _You dirty human, how could you make fun of- Wait, how can you understand me?_ ' A pause. ' _What are you?_ '

 _Wouldn't you like to know, snake boy…_ Memories of a long-forgotten meme resurfaced and her lips twisted slightly and so did her heart.

Her already somber mood plummeted to the ground. She wasn't sad. She was melancholic, longing for something that once was but isn't anymore, wondering how the outcomes would have changed if she hadn't been so stubborn, if she apologized, if she told her parents she loved them.

She had died with regrets and brought them with her here. She found it particularly unfair for her new parents to have a soul already jaded with life as their child.

The only thing she was glad of was that this time she was born with the right gender.

"Little girl?" Her heart leaped into her throat while her skeleton jumped out of her skin. "Are you alright?"

 _Holy shi-_ Her scream died in her throat. She looked over her shoulder, watching his shirt fluttering in the wind, pants hemmed to his knees, showing his hairy legs. He hovered over her, casting a huge shadow over her as his eyes pierced her to detect any kind of injuries, both hands on his hips in a very mom-like fashion. When he found no such thing, he leaned back and relaxed.

How long has he been standing behind her? Did he hear her talking to the snake? How the fuck a man of his stature didn't make any sounds? It was physically impossible - Her eyes fell on the triangle necklace. _Hold on, is he an assassin?_ Wasn't there an Assassin's Creed with pirates? No, it made no sense, she was in One Piece. Unless…

 _Crossover?_ _No, stupid!_

"I heard a scream."

Her mouth moved before her brain could stop it. "We work in the dark to save the light."

His brows scrunched, eyes pinning her in place. Her mouth dried, tongue heavy under the intensity of his gaze- Was she right? Was he an- but he suddenly tilted his head, looking like a confused dog.

"What?"

_Stupid, what would you have done if he was an assassin and thought you were a threat?_

Anabelle swallowed, jumping on her feet.

"I've found our way out." She smiled innocently, pushing her chest out like a proud peacock. "Surprised?"

Roger blinked, scratching his cheek and turning around. When his eyes fell on the boat, his smile turned blinding, brighter than the sun.

"Well done," a heavy hand fell on her hand, ruffling her hair. She ignored the way her guts twisted and warmed up. "It'll buy us sometimes. Though, I've already started to work on a raft."

' _Water… I need water._ ' The snake pitifully cried in her hand, reminding her that he was still here.

Anabelle scowled at it.

"And what do we have here?" Roger squatted down, peering at the snake. He pushed his hair away with a thoughtful sound. "Oh! You've caught a baby king?"

_A baby what?_

Her face froze in an expression of half disbelief, half horror.

"It's so tiny," she blurped out, ignoring the affronted cry or its attempt at biting her hand.

"It's a baby. He should grow bigger-" Drools suddenly dribbled from his mouth, a mopey expression on the face, "- before we can eat it."

The sea snake grew deathly silent, cold sweat running down his body, before in a tiny and angry voice he added, ' _Born three human years ago.'_

Anabelle blinked, startled before she stopped herself from reacting. What would her newly acquaintance think if he learned of her ability to understand-

"Three years…" Roger stammered, eyes comically large, "Three years and still so small."

Her jaw hit the ground. No fucking way. "You- you, you, you, you, you, yo-"

Her eyes rolled into their orbits while she tried to wrap her head around the idea that _he could talk to them too_.

"It's the first time-" she started, not sure what to feel about that but Roger wasn't in front of her anymore, too busy rummaging through the boat. "It's the first time I met someone capable of hearing them too."

He froze, back straight as a wooden plank before he threw her a glance over his shoulder. He stared as if she'd just produced a rhinoceros from her pocket. She could just imagine the sparks in his brain, desperately trying to grasp her words and instead just causing a short circuit. He looked like a pop-eyed toy from the funfair. Unexpectedly funny.

"You can hear them too?" He turned toward her, mumbling under his breath, watching her in a new light. She suddenly gained a new appeal, an interesting quirk that brought them closer. "You can hear the maddening chattering of the seagulls and the stories told by the relics of ancient times?"

Anabelle blinked. _What?_

"No, I hear the song of the sea and its inhabitants." It was probably due to her Dunamis, really. "Only the voices of living things."

His breathless sigh turned into a chuckle. "I thought I was the only one… There are others like you?" Anabelle shrugged, pushing unkempt hair out of her face. He mulled on something before nodding and went back to rummaging through the boat. "Where do you come from?"

"-What?"

His back was facing so he didn't see her losing her composure nor the hurt tainted her eyes. Anxiety flooded in her bloodstream.

"Aha!" He threw a hand up, squatting - he was still uncomfortably big - before he turned to her, practically shoving a bottle in her face with a dummy smile and bright eyes, "Booze."

She made a face at that, rolling her eyes, while her index was drumming against her tight. Really, pirates and their alcohol…

"I still need to know where you live though," he said, examining the bottle. When he couldn't tell what it was, he unscrewed it, smelled it before taking a long drag. "You know, to take you back to your family. They may be miss-"

Anabelle squawked, heart thundering. _This man has no fear…_

"You shouldn't drink unknown bottles!" She lectured, slapping his chest, and it was more a reflex than an act. "It could have been poisoned and you would have died-"

"- It's rum, really-"

"- and left me all alone! You're supposed to be the adult here, to set the example, and you've only shown me what I shouldn't do!"

He put his pinky into his ear, pouting as he turned away from her, "Man, you sound so much like Rayleigh…"

She had no idea why but something in her mind stirred, like a beast sensing _something_. It felt like she ought to know that name.

"I don't know who this Rayleigh fella is but he sounds awesome."

Roger faced her once more, something gleaming in his eyes. Anabelle swallowed. The smell of the sun washed over her with a brisk burst of wind.

"But you do care…" He cooed at her, smiling.

Did that man ever stop smiling or was he just that happy?

Anabelle immediately denied, spluttering and in a very tsundere-like manner, sealed her fate.

"N- no, I just need you to leave the island!" She immediately regretted her slip of tongue as he jumped on the occasion to wrangle an answer out of her.

"Talking about that, where do you live, again?"

The silence that followed was eloquent enough.

"You have… nowhere to go?"

 _Way to twist the knife in my wounds, Roger._ She thought darkly and her throat knotted. She swallowed to ease the pain, nibbling her lip. She spoke after another moment of silence.

"I have nowhere and everywhere as my ho-"

' _Oh, I know,_ " the baby king interrupted, pride dripping in his tone as if he solved the greatest mystery, and if he had hands he would have a fist against his open palm, ' _you're a Yokan. The ones who died._ '

The silence following was heavy. Anabelle almost forgot he was still here.

The hand curled around the baby sea king's neck tightened and it squeaked and spluttered, bringing it up to the eyes level. Anabelle appeared bloodthirsty.

"Snitches," she said, a dark grin plastered on her lips, "get eaten."

.O.

The starry night above was better than anything she ever saw before.

There were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years. Anabelle sat back against the cool surface of a rock. What were a few minutes in untold reams of time?

She could hear the sound of light footsteps echoing in the opened cave with the waves hitting the shore, grazing her toes and her pants. The water shone like a molten mirror. It had lost its turquoise to the night but in the moonlight, the ripples twisted and adopted a silvery tint; as if the sea lapping her feet was shivering.

The sound of rustling clothes and the moans of a half-drunk man were getting closer and closer until the smell of alcohol and something heavier, musky with sweat washed over her.

 _It's not a bad smell,_ she thought, watching from the corners of her eyes as he sat on a rock next to her, feet falling into the water and splashing around with no care in the world. _It's the smell of someone dangerous._

"So, that's where you've been hiding, uh?"

She didn't answer and continued her observation of the sea, fingers linked together. That prickling was back in her fingers, begging, _yearning_ for the vast expanse of water below her. And as always, Anabelle pushed the feeling into the back of her mind, burying it under her massive urge to ease the itch on her shoulder.

The injury was healing nicely and quickly but the scars around her wrists would remain forever. _Memento mori, remember all of your hardships_.

"It's a nice place, calm and relaxing." She could _feel_ his eyes on her, boring into the side of her head. He had quite the intense gaze and an overwhelming presence, forcing everyone in the vicinity to pay attention. "What got you thinking so hard?"

Her words tumbled out in an almost dreamy tone. "I wonder if I would ever notice water, had I been born in the oceans with fins for limbs. Perhaps, the currents would be my wind and I would have moved within it more easily than a bird in the sky."

Roger raised a knee, leaning on it. He pondered on her words, neither laughing nor scoffing.

(Something swirled inside her, a warm feeling that eased the coldness of her guts.)

"But where would you have found the sun?"

Her lips parted but no answer came out until a smile curled the corners of her mouth. "Within people."

He threw his head back and took a long sip of the bottle before he burst into laughter, "How optimistic, I like it."

Her eyes curved and she raised her arms, stretching like a lazy cat waiting for the satisfying pop.

Roger stayed silent beside her for a moment. The sounds of the waves crashing on the shore filled the lapse of sound between them. Anabelle watched him from the corner of her eyes.

Relaxed on a rock too small for him, he looked like an awkward panther. His opened white shirt creased around the elbows as he leaned against them, his coat left back at the camp. The white made a nice contrast against his tanned and rough skin, the skin of a fighter. Of someone who lived for and embraced the sea.

"Is it good stuff?" She asked, eyeing the bottle of rum loosely dangling from his fingers.

"Good, yes, but quite strong too. A bit too strong for a bird like you."

"You would be surprised by what I can handle."

Roger blinked at her, floored by the small flames in her eyes before he threw back his head.

 _Yeah_ , she closed her eyes to his laughter, _it's not a bad smell, but it's dangerous._

He laughed so hard he slipped off the rock into the sea below and even then, he continued to laugh.

"I like your wits, girl."

Her insides twisted.

"But it's still a no, you're as thin as a twig. Can't have you hangovered, hurt, and malnourished." He laughed, patting her head a bit too roughly.

She made a face, looking like an offended wet cat, and swiped his hand away.

"Crocus would have my head if he discovered that." He added after a second, as an afterthought.

_It's the smell of someone I could grow to love._

_.O._

It has been decided after Anabelle witnessed the abysmal talent for crafting Roger had - his raft was so shabby, it would _break_ under her weight - that she would give a new life to their way out.

That was why she was sweating in the jungle, thirsty and sick of coconut's juices, searching for pocodi fruits that Roger may or may not have seen there.

The pocodi fruits were known for their pungent smell and disgusting, sticky substance. And that was for that reason Anabelle was searching for them. When added to other specific plants, they made a good coat and an even better glue, perfect for their trip.

The girl sighed, wiping sweat off her forehead and massaged her neck.

Being in a jungle was quite an experience, she never thought she would feel like that. Breathing felt like drowning. Her first breath under the dense canopy was like inhaling a warm, aromatic tea with her nose.

And the noises! Everything was muffled, yet it felt more overwhelming, coming from everywhere, under her shoes, from her level and above her. The jungle folded around Anabelle like it was taking possession of her. Leafy arms fell over the way she'd come and blocked her motion in every direction. Every view was unique but the same all at once.

Her foot caught a root and she was sent rolling on the floor.

_Son of a-_

Her mouth formed an 'o'.

Hidden from view, purple bell-like flowers with small red spheres dangling flourished under massive leaves.

_Pocodi flowers._

Anabelle grinned. What a stroke of luck.

.O.

Everything was going too well, she should have seen it coming.

.O.

The wind chimed and the sea hummed and Anabelle happily skipped toward the beach. The sand was warming her feet and the sun, her back. Unnecessary considering how warm she felt but not unwelcomed.

Anabelle stopped, though, when windy complaints grazed her ears. It was soft and so deeply scared. A punch in the gut. She never heard something like that before, so expressive and raw. It was directly connected to her feelings.

Instinctively, her eyes fell on a swarm of seagulls, swooping down to-

She ran toward them, catching rocks on her way to throw, hoping the birds wouldn't catch baby sea turtles in the meantime.

 _Seagulls fight dirty_ , an unfortunate truth Anabelle learned the hard way. While some would attack her, pulling on her hair and pecking, others would dive swan to scoop the poor and defenseless babies.

She wasn't able to save them all, however, the girl was a more experienced fighter than her frail body let on, so she still saved some. With the satisfaction of punching several birds and saving babies, Anabelle walked back toward the camp.

Her good mood went to hell when she reached the camp. Roger wasn't smiling at her. He hadn't even greeted her back. He just watched her, a grim expression on his face.

It was her first clue that something wasn't right. Her second clue was-

"Anabelle," he started, a bit unsure.

\- when he didn't call her 'girlie' or 'little girl' like he used to.

Strangely enough, her heart sped up.

"When I walked on the beach, I saw a ship with white and red sails passing by. I tried to stop then but…"

_They didn't._

Her heart missed one beat, then the other. The blood left her cheeks and all notion of warmth flew out of the window. She broke into cold sweats, aware of her ever speeding heart.

At first, there was silence. A misty haze upon the horizons of her mind. That's where she kept everything, in her mind. That was until now.

Her remaining thread of strength frayed before breaking completely, sending her plummeting toward the ground, over the edge and into the darkness. She could feel the hard painful lump in the back of her throat.

The panic started with a tightening of the chest, as if the muscles were trying not to let another breath in, but instead to die. Then the breath came, shallow, lungs unable to move much against the suddenly heavy ribs. Then her mind became static, thoughts making no sense, replays of horrors pushed at the back of her mind.

Finally, the last step.

Hysterical sobs shook her thin frame, threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She fought to reclaim control over her body, shocked by the sounds escaping from deep within her chest.

She realized only after some time that she had been fighting against Roger's hold, trashing violently, while screaming pleas and threats. Once she retook control of her own body, once she started to feel more than that overwhelming panic, fear, and dark thoughts, she buried herself deeper in his warmth.

She was cold, _so cold_. Her insides, frozen with fear, crackled when his words of comfort and the warmth his big hand stroking her head reached them.

And she cried, and cried, and cried until her tears ran dry, and she cried some more. At some point, she realized that she was laying on him, back supported by one of his arms while she was sitting between his legs. The only thing keeping her together was Roger.

Rationally speaking, Anabelle knew they weren't here and the probability that it was another ship than the Bella Donna was high but rationality failed to comfort her. It didn't stop her mind from spiraling out of control.

A complete and utter loss of control.

.O.

The sun set in the sky as fresh colors - red, orange, purple, and crimson - brushed upon an artist's canvas, as if those rays were destined to create one of the greatest works of art of all time - one given to those who captured simple moments with their soul.

His heartbeat was strong and steady against her ear, soothing by its strength. He had held her for the majority of the afternoon, making sure that she wasn't going to tip over the edge once more.

"Sorry," she croaked, feeling embarrassed but mostly tired.

"There is nothing to be sorry for." His sweet rumbling vibrated against the side of her head, " My crewmates also broke down from time to time. It's natural."

_But it's the first time you saw one as violent as mine, uh?_

Anabelle sniffed, rubbing her eyes against the rough cotton of his shirt. The weight on her soul was heavy, too heavy for her and so, she opened her lips.

Her story tumbled from the tip of her tongue.

.O.

"Fuck the World Government," Anabelle whispered as the ending of her story. Her voice was hoarse and broken by the cries she let out, "They take everything without giving a damn."

His hold tightened, shoulder pressing into his chest. She was glad for his silent support. He hadn't been trying to openly comfort her, offering neither pity nor anger. He was just here, breathing inside the same bubble of comfort, listening without interrupting her even when she wasn't making much sense.

Burning eyes looked down at her, and in the golden light, his face was surprisingly serious. "Anabelle, do you wanna turn this world upside down with me?"

It sounded like a promise of a lifetime, too sweet and too interesting to miss but-

"Right now, I want to see this world burn to the ground and to construct it anew but I also want to see what it has to offer first."

 _Freedom and revenge,_ her heart unconsciously whispered. A murmur only for Roger's ears to hear.

His eyes creased slightly, softening his face. "Then, join my crew."

Her breath flustered on her lips and for a moment only the waves, the wind, and her thundering heart could be heard, and then-

There were moments that defined a life, instants infinitely small that stuck to someone, and changed the course of their fate. A point of no return.

Anabelle reached another one today.

"Okay."

_.O._

_to be continued?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, you've reached the end of the chapter!
> 
> Hopefully, it was good! I gave it my all to make it cute and funny but also sad.
> 
> Anabelle still hasn't realized who Roger is just yet. But soon (aka next chapter). Memento mori means 'remember that you die' but I twisted it a bit here.
> 
> If you have any questions or remarks, you can ask them! I will always try to answer them!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so how was it?
> 
> The Youkan are slightly based on a mythical creature, not physically but regarding their abilities.
> 
> For now, we don't know much about the main character and it's normal. You will learn more as chapters are written (by me, sigh). And yes, the secrets will be revealed as time passed but if you have theories, I'm more than happy to read them.
> 
> Take care!
> 
> I'm out.


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